rekindleme | There's a storm on the way

Who: Everyone!
Where: City wide event!
When: November 23rd to November 30th
Summary: Seasons change, and in a dramatic way!
Warnings: 100% chance of heavy rainfall, and a good chance of musical numbers.

There's a definite change in the seasons.

In between the initial rain showers the locals are preparing for the change in the weather, making sure their roofs are sturdy and mended, windows are closed and secured, supplies are ready...Those who help out, or have helped in prior events might even find a care package prepared and left in the lobby of their apartment, or outside their door. (The contents being a few days worth of simple food; rice gimbap, some fruits, etc. And a few candles as well.) If asked, they say that the seasons are shifting, and the rainy season will be here in full force soon.

...And sure enough if a few days, on the morning of the 23rd, the weather DOES shift, and those clouds that have been gathering and sprinkling finally let loose with all that stored up rain. It falls in light drizzles, heavy torrents, gentle misting curtains, but most key of all it NEVER lets up. There's always some precipitation going.

That said, it might be good to head out with an umbrella when heading out. There's something about some of these storms that's odd; maybe it's just the mood that comes with the rain, the rhythm of the drops on the roofs and the ground, but...There's something almost musical about it at times. Sort of reminds one of a song, in fact!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

His dancing would earn a ten in technical ability. Artistic expression... nnnnot so much. It's so uncannily perfect that when he whirls to face her he takes a graceful step backward and bows as the music goes all operatic. "Thank you, thank you, thank you kindly," he warbles tunefully, taking the umbrella. Popping it open cuts the music short.

He actually sighs a relieved kind of sigh, eyes closing for a moment.

"Do you know what has caused this?" he asks, tilting the umbrella so that it would keep the rain off of her, as well.

Shura points up at the raining skies. She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come forth; instead, she hums a haunting tune. For someone who can't normally carry a tune at all, it's rather uncanny.

September's head tilts and then he looks up. The sky? The rain?

Ever the scientist, he tilts the umbrella so that the rain falls on him.

Music swells. "Something has changed within me..."

Back up goes the umbrella and the singing and music stop. He drops it again.

More music. But from where? "...Something is not the same...."

And up again. But three times establishes a pattern, so he does, indeed, drop the umbrella a third time.

There is is again. Where in the heck is this orchestra they're hearing? "I'm tired of playing by the rules of someone else's game...."

Is it the light or did his eyes go wide? The umbrella snaps back up and stays there this time.

"I think I need to get out of this rain," he says.

Shura boldly steps forward to hide under the umbrella once he stops testing the rain theory, invading his personal space. The circumstances demand it. She's tired of singing stupid revealing songs. "You and me both," she points out.

September very likely has no concept of personal space, as he doesn't react to the closeness of her proximity at all. He tilts the umbrella slightly so that it shields them both. He scans the area, squinting slightly, then points in a direction to their left.

"There is a gazebo six-point-five yards from here. It is the nearest shelter. If you you would prefer a building, there is a cafe ten-point-three yards in that direction." That direction being ahead and slightly right, down the street.

His absence of reaction did not bother Shura. In fact, she was very happy he didn't became all awkward, because that was not her goal right now. "I dunno about you, but I could use a hot drink to warm up." She didn't felt cold as much as normal humans, but with her rain-soaked clothes it was getting cod even for her.

"That sounds... amenable," he had to think for a beat about how it actually sounded and put a word to it.

He starts walking in the direction of said cafe, carefully making sure that the umbrella stays over them both.

It's not as far as it sounds. The rain was simply obscuring everything more than seven feet away.

Walking to the café was actually a little awkward as they did their best to stay under the umbrella. Still, as the door had no protection against the rain, someone had to sacrifice oneself, so Shura stepped out and held the door open for the man.

"The call to arms was never true,
Time to imbibe, here's to you,
I'll tell you stories bruised and blue,
Of drum machines and landslides..."

September blinks, then murmurs a soft "Thank you," and steps inside easily but much more quickly than an ordinary human would. He stops well inside the door, shaking the umbrella dry and propping it against the wall next to a dozen others.

The cafe is, at least, already inhabited with a lot of dripping people, so they don't stand out too badly as they squelch across the floor and find a table.

Shura cannot move as quickly as September, but she makes a valiant effort when she gets out of the rain and into the café.

As soon as they make it to a table, she grabs the menu. Can she still stomach coffee? Or maybe they have tea...

"What are you taking?" she casually asks the man. She wants to wring out her shirt, but she refrains.

September also seems to have refrained from wringing out his clothing, so it seems they can both drip all over the floor. A fellow with a mop quietly attempts to make said floor a little less slick and a waitress shows up so fast one'd swear she teleported.

Before September can answer Shura's question, the waitress launches into the usual spiel before asking if they'd like anything to drink. He blinks and quietly asks for a black coffee. The waitress then directs her attention to Shura, seeming completely unfazed by the other woman's drenched appearance. The clientele have been wetter than an otter in a washing machine for a long while, now....

Shura asks for green tea, as hot as possible, and the unfazed waitress turns and heads back to the counter.

"I sure hope the rain will let up enough to let me go home without bellowing my life story," she says as she turns back to the man.

He regards the weather for a few beats. Weather is the one thing that defies their predictive calculation, and probably always will be.

"As do I. This effect it has is... difficult to reconcile. I cannot devise a hypothesis as to how it is causing us to sing."

Poor September. He'll eventually learn that science has been rewritten in places like this....

There's a storm on the way

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omg late.

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